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“At last I’ve found you!” a voice cried.
I dropped the plate into the sink, and it cracked in half. I spun around, my heart pounding mercilessly. “Matilda, what the hell?” I blew out a breath to steady my heart rate. “How did you find me?”
The crone cackled, as crones were wont to do. “You left London. You didn’t leave the planet. I’m mystical, annwyl. I can always hunt you down.” She smiled at her own joke. Matilda of the Night, or the Night Mallt in Welsh, once rode with the Wild Hunt. She and I met at a gathering in London a couple years ago and hit it off due to our common natures. I hadn’t expected to like her, but Matilda surprised me. I’d moved to Fairhaven on a whim and hadn’t thought to tell her. I hadn’t thought to tell anyone.
“You could’ve given me a warning. I would’ve stocked the liquor cabinet,” I said.
Matilda’s gaze raked over me. “You look tired. Nightmares?”
“It’s not been too bad lately.”
“That’s something, at least. We all need a break from what plagues us.” She sat at the kitchen table. “Where’s your hospitality? I’m positively parched after my long journey.”
“As you said, you’re mystical. How long could your journey be?”
She stretched her thin lips over gums. “You should get a cat.”
“I don’t want a cat.”
“I can understand why you refuse a dog, but a cat is good company.”
“I don’t want a cat.” I didn’t want any additional responsibility or complications.
“Nonsense. Anyone with half a brain wants a cat.”
“I’m allergic.”
She shook her head, knowing perfectly well I was full of shit. “This is a wonderful part of the country. You made a good choice. The Wild Acres are exquisite. Have you been?”
“Not yet. Been busy fixing up the house. You didn’t try to hunt, did you?” Matilda had a habit of creating a mess in her wake—and by a mess, I meant a trail of bloodhounds and wayward souls.
“No, no. I will leave the restless spirits here in your care.” She inclined her head. “I noticed a few outside. Stubborn, are they?”
“They’ve chosen to stay, and I’ve chosen to let them.”
Matilda cackled again. “You always have been a soft touch. Perhaps your next incarnation will be tougher.”
I sighed. “I’m as tough as I need to be.” At this rate, I’d be out of teabags by the end of the week. I’d managed to go for months without replenishing my stash when I didn’t have visitors.
“What’s with the moat in this day and age?”
“It’s an original feature.”
“It’s stupid and unnecessary. Why not fill it in? You can create a lovely floral border with it.”
“I might. I haven’t decided yet.” I still clung to images of me floating around the outside of the house on the back of a blowup swan. Black, of course. “Since you’re here, would you mind helping me with a problem?”
“The walls just need a lick of paint, and they’ll be perfectly presentable for guests.”
“I’m not talking about the house.”
Her brow furrowed. “Oh, why not? Because you’re in dire need of help with this monstrosity.”
“Gee, thanks. Now I know who to call for unconditional support.”
Matilda’s knobby fingers wrapped around the cup. “Have you found yourself in trouble already? Anything like London?”
“No, nothing like London.” I didn’t want to talk about my experience there. It had been fine, until it wasn’t. Everywhere was fine until it wasn’t.
